


Eye of the Beholder

by monaboyd_archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-02-26
Updated: 2004-02-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 13:49:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4437854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monaboyd_archivist/pseuds/monaboyd_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Do you wanna philosophize deeply?' About what? 'The meaning of perfect.' I'll have a go at that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eye of the Beholder

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Shirasade: this story was originally archived at the Monaboyd.net Archive, which was closed in September 2014 due to software issues and a lack of new submissions for several years . To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in October 2014. I e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact me using the e-mail address on the Monaboyd.net Archive collection profile.

"Perfection" is an illusion. Just think about it. Who can define perfect?

Is the perfect dish spaghetti or sushi; is the perfect eye color blue-eyed or green-eyed? There is no universal perfect- there is nothing known to be so, though many call it that because it is good or beautiful to their highest expectations. There is no universal understanding that sushi is the perfect food and no universal understanding that green is the perfect eye color. Why? Because people are all unique and they like different things.

Imagine if there were something truly perfect. Say it's the Perfect Donut, made excellently from a secret recipe that only the best cooks worldwide own. This Perfect Donut would become known by all donut fans, and grow so popular that every other kind of donut would be shunned. Makers of every Lesser Donut would go out of business because only the Perfect Donut would do.

But as it is, some people like Glazed Donuts best, and other people like Jelly Donuts. It's the same with everything else. Some people prefer spaghetti to sushi, and some people believe blue eyes are prettier than green eyes. There is no real "perfect." Yet people seem to think so, and although most love the popular icon of "perfect" because they believe they couldn't do any better, the true perfect lies in the individual. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. The true perfect is something that really could not be any better than it is- to one observer's perspective.

Like you.

Perhaps some might call your brown hair less than perfect because they like black hair, or some may look down upon the shape of your nose because they prefer a small one. They might like brown eyes and therefore call your stormy eyes plain. They might insist clear skin but God knows how much I love those freckles of yours (or moles or beauty marks or whatever on earth they're called)- tiny dots sprinkled all over your face like cinnamon and sugar, that one can only see if they just look close enough. People would call you less than perfect because they know someone with more muscles, or with a sense of style more like theirs. They would- they do- pass you by because their standards are too high. But I know better, and I know that there is no Perfect Donut and I am not afraid to settle for my favorite Glazed Donut, you, even though most people might like Jelly Donuts. You're all I want and you're so perfect it's overwhelming.

We all have our opinions, and all have an image of our individual perfection. I gave up on "perfect" and I had no hope, but I should not have resigned so easily. I didn't used to know what perfect meant, until I met you. Now I know what it is to love, and to know perfection and see it in you through eyes of unique and individual adoration. The first time I saw you, the first time you held me in your arms, the first time you kissed me and really meant it, the first time you whispered into my mouth that you loved me, and the first time I woke up in the middle of the night with you snuggled warmly up against me- then I knew what it was like to know perfection. I knew what it was like to have the Perfect Donut.

My Perfect Donut.


End file.
